


AKA- Forget Me Not (Jessica Jones Drabble)

by Miss_Marvelous



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), MCU, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drabble, F/M, Jessica X Luke, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Marvelous/pseuds/Miss_Marvelous
Summary: Jessica reflects on the events happening in Harlem and her past relationship with Luke Cage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work for anything Jessica Jones/Luke Cage related. I've almost finished Luke Cage (and I've loved it) but I keep asking myself what Jessica thinks when she's hearing all the news.

Jessica was six bottles in before she started to feel that familiar buzz. _It won't last long so better make it count_ , she thought. She's tried to shut out what's been happening in Harlem over the last few weeks. Tried to ignore Luke's name plastered everywhere her eyes look- in the papers, on the news, even on Trish's show for Christsakes. She shakes her head dark hair swaying back and forth. It's dark outside in Hell's Kitchen and she'd already forced Malcolm back to his apartment. Ever since the news from Harlem started breaking here he'd been nagging her even more- watching her from the corner of his eyes with concern. All it did was piss her off even more. She didn't want to talk or think about the things that had happened. She wanted to work and drink and occasionally get a decent night's sleep. Tonight wasn't one of those decent sleep nights- she could already tell.

 

She stood up slowly, a little wobbly from the alcohol but nothing she couldn't handle. She grabbed her faded messenger bag and her phone- five missed calls, mostly from Trish spanning the last few days. She wasn't ignoring her on purpose. Jessica just wasn't the "talk out your problems" type of person. Kilgrave dying hadn't changed that.

 

She stalked out her front door, letting it slam closed- the **ALIAS INVESTIGATIONS** window it contained vibrated softly. She had barely stumbled past Malcolm's door when it opened. "Jess…" She could hear the concern in his voice and it set her on edge. "Dammit Malcolm, don't you have anything better to do than listen for the sound of my door." Jessica snapped without turning around to look at him. "Jess…" He started again, this time firmer. "I just know that what you're going through right now-" The small woman turned on him, eyes flashing with annoyance. "What I'm going through right now _Malcolm_ is about five bottles of whiskey and a desperate need for some air." He paused, taking in the expression on her face and her obstinate stance. Whatever he saw there made him back off, "Fine. Okay. Just trying to be there." Jessica was glad he stopped pushing- she wasn't interested in unraveling over this in front of him. She turned on her heel and continued her trek towards the elevator. "Well if I need someone to hold my hair later- I'll call you." It was too dark when she turned and the elevators closed too fast to really catch his expression. This was a relief, as the feeling of guilt was already pooling in her stomach.

 

~

An hour later she found herself curled up on that fire escape she'd watched Luke from so many times. The bar that had belonged to him was still a pile of rubble. Hell's Kitchen wasn't exactly known for cleaning up its messes. She could feel the buzz wearing off now. She missed the numbness that alcohol always brought. Right now she was all too aware of why she'd ended up here again. She could almost hear Luke's voice. _"Jessica Jones you are not a piece of shit."_ A tiny laughed bubbled up from her chest and got stuck in her throat as a sob. "Yes I am." She replied to the phantom memory.

 

What was going on in Harlem…was wearing on the PI. Part of her was so proud of what Luke was doing. Another part of her whispered that it meant he'd moved on so completely that she'd become just another bad memory. His wife's murderer, the woman who shot him point blank with a shot gun…or worst of all-just nothing. He'd told her that he only protected what was his, so did all this mean…he had something new to protect? Something better to protect? She pressed her head into the cool bars behind her. She didn't have any of those answers and she wasn't going to go looking for them either.


End file.
